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the life whose little door is swinging shut morning with all its clanging odors wafts over a marble populace shining with the sweat of mechanism ancient scents improbably drift out from neon diners walls of metal bend audibly elevators descend in granite walls scales fall from eyes on sidewalks drift through puddles tinted with gasoline and infinite sunlight and are replaced willfully park fountains bubble wistfully someone's heart drops and wobbles like a stone in water through the shimmering linoleum floor of a bank metal vaults are closed wet shining eyes are opened someone descends effortlessly into the belly of the earth and comes back to the flaking, misty surface with kisses like napalm with a heart full of impossible lavas the heat of returning the deathly-beautiful sprinklings of sun cutting through pulpits and microphones even the sun is impermanent in the first moment of waking its gases fidget on our bodies that will be indistinguishable when the supernovas intensify the light in searing colors galaxies roar down with their garish external shades merely to spraypaint the vegetables in the supermarket with unexplored solar systems not one of us has begun to live yet there's still a blank and unlined space in the formerly airtight cycles of the clock where the digits have not been penciled in by the cruelty of factories ineffectual streams of ink cover marble surfaces for a fleshless but pulsating moment and are washed away by geysers of plant blood from seething fertile ground in every day there is a lost second a particle of fertile soil crowded by gardens in which we all speak in the lost tongue all m en and women are adam and eve with empty bellies every human being is an awkward child every generation is the first human generation a hand finds the innocent head of a puppy cowering in a marble corner fur rippling in the dead green light of an ATM machine (this line will be wiped out by time when the febrile jaws that munch the tar at twilight come to take it in their streetlit teeth) and far above couples touching with hands of pure oxygen and water in waves of turgid salsa music and scents of splinted clam-shells a bird folds its wings with perfect inhuman confidence and plummets with its hollow skeleton rescuing itself from death on the pavement by small unmeasured inches of eternity a face screams instinctively behind the tall supermarket windows that catch the sun like a weak basket with loosening strands and turns into a violent orchid of spreading light every day for a glistening moment the air is visible and like a translucent tidal wave washing over us forcing our fading candle-flames of hair back from the unfilled parenthesis of our faces everybody on the streets forgets their family names for a spreading moment and adds the other pedestrians to their blood for comfort life is so alien in the afternoon that if anyone loses their familiar rhythm of habit for a moment encased by nothing their pupils bloom with a formidable crimson and the secrets of their ancestry are remembered and forgotten music blasts from cobwebbed stereo speakers and is smeared by the film-loop of eternity everything that surrounds us is indescribably fragile bricks are paper but we remember when all the walls were thick as bank vaults before the strained whispers spoke to us before a world of sweating android preachers completely ignorant of each other's desires pounded pulpits in the belly of an earthly hell flesh blooms with flickering irritated light beneath drifting clothes tides of cloth that cover us and weep to be unwoven faces form thin labyrinths in the air nothing can be traced back far enough timelines come to a halt like a piece of sidewalk chalk worn down to the aching fingers that have traced it over the cloaked earth I want to carve your marble-blue body with my hands of white granite with their turgid interior flecked by blood reaching to the thin exterior stones in our blood like asteroids colliding the flower-bulbs of eyes ignoring the newscast trembling instead at the foot of surging galaxies that spread like oil in water on the curve of the sky jet exhaust tracing its way blooming spreading over a girl's bare shoulder at an outdoor restaurant blooming spreading nothing is dull eyelids and lashes open like blades traps for an animal that wants to step into them and be freed of walking forever hands slide over cold tables pass paperwork everything is broken and reborn clocks are punched time is never quite redeemed hands tremble as they proceed toward the cruel green digital hours sunlight recedes over the tar drawing in the atmosphere and shimmering, shooting away like a jellyfish unquenched longing eclipses the senses again and again I was born in facile boundaries my country is not a country spiritual limbs ache for the lapping of vast oceans nothings stands still minutes glisten minutes surge nothing has been left out my face leaves an imprint on your face sometimes it is crueler than the rest of nature we both glow like freshly fallen meteorites after passing through the feverish layers of the calm and volati le atmosphere the noise of waterfalls in the park joins the blinking of your eyes your eyes are violent water someone falls through skeletal buildings in a dream and wakes up on sheets rubbed with fertile soil far under the crust of earth families cry to be released emotions eclipse reality and drape it with horrifying light light that is a scalpel tingling vibrating waiting for a steady hand in the surgeon's dish the eyes that look become the eyes that create man is a tiny god in unreachable pain treebranches bend to be climbed a child ascends them and ages indescribably as he ascends the eyes of girls on pavement become wet stones in the stream-bed of his growing vision traffic is suddenly nonexistent in its otherworldly persistence the desire to die will never be fulfilled the desire to live is stronger than a river it rushes through my arteries carrying messy histories in these! streets it is misplaced but misplaced like a piece of nature human emotions swelling like tides thrown up by a meteorite to cloak the grey cities in sweating green-blue water the vast and unreleased weeping goes up to join the water cycle tears unshed are grasped by spilled solar systems during the night and pulled like a thorn of frozen liquid from your body the bed you wake up in belongs to a stranger who carves their appearance into a mirror gleaming with gasoline and everything created by God and everything created by man is horrifying and beautiful, a fang that punches through calm ozone in a stagnant neon afternoon there is blind shivering beauty like a constellation wrenched loose and disassembled in the fighting of wars continents drift toward each other like timid lovers blades rust at the foot of jungles greed forces love to become violent stagnancy forces love to become rampant an! d love descends down through the bubbling of park fountains and into the molten core of the earth even the eyes of pigeons bloom with a cold flicker like mica that is love sunlight glides on your skin of granite the sun torn loose from infinity's energy from God's energy that is a pain more immense than a spreading star from man's pain which is a joke under that star blades become elastic at the foot of jungles intercoms spout false newscasts ears fill with molten lava the earth surges with mucus at the monotonous sound gravity is utilized not defeated streams of jet exhaust bloom and spread behind your timid smile a popping noise like the entire galaxy being forced into the pipes that feed a water fountain continually reoccurs almost everything we do on a daily basis is insane balancing checkbooks as cirrus clouds lovingly slash the sky sunlight falling like an anvil on hands that drift over restaurant tables on a porch where the sky laps our skin like water and the major diseases are far away endless blades ineffectual medication people playing chess on park grass leaves dying and falling with sounds louder than engines on the stiffening grass as the earth perks up and languishes in afternoon clothing is wrenched off by the flirting gravity of other uninhabited planets that send their gravity like a lesser sun through the untelevised stratosphere every day soil from the garden of eden that has never departed from us dribbles from a child's eye-socket as watery mud and their parent's hand enwrapping theirs is far away like the echoes in the fever dream of a fever that never ends but shoves its fertile shapes of stone breaking into sudden grey soil through the undulating street of rippling wet tar cement mirages of other people who share its spirit and all want to get the hell into and out of your body.
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